


Moral Support

by MiladyDeWinter (GoddessOfTechnology)



Category: King's Quest (Video Games)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Comedy, Dark Comedy, Gen, Poor Kyle, this is 2k words of kyle feeling very tired
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 07:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20422103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessOfTechnology/pseuds/MiladyDeWinter
Summary: When Graham loses his conscience (courtesy of an angry sorceress) all Kyle can really do is sigh in defeat.(Or: An excerpt from "Everything Went Wrong: An Autobiography by Sir Kyle of Daventry")





	Moral Support

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to rycbarm123 on ffn and grahamrocks on tumblr for betareading!

Kyle always knows when it‘s going to be one of _ those _ days.

He knows because somehow, every time, he would wake up that morning with a frantic pounding in his heart and a persistent shake in his hands, as well as too-vague-to-be-helpful premonitions of disaster and death and everything he loves going up in flames. 

He'd have the Dreams, the distinctive nightmares filled with choppy images of devastation and blood and entirely too much fire, accompanied by the weird chanting noises that send a chill down your spine and make you hold your breath. Except the chill is actually a cold knife being plunged between your shoulder blades, and the lack of breathing is because you’re being slowly choked to death by a million charred arms. 

You know, _ those _dreams.

So when he wakes up in a cold sweat one morning, with the chanting still ringing in his ears and images of fire burned into his mind, his first thought is _ oh stars, not this again. _

Contrary to what one may think, this response isn't one of despair, or despondency, or even a grim and healthy fear for one's life. No, this has become so commonplace that all that Kyle can muster is a sort of general, depressed exasperation, a kind of sad ennui. Black thoughts such as 'why is this my life', 'what have I done to deserve this', and 'becoming a knight was a _ mistake _' drift slowly in his mind, bouncing off the walls of his skull with lethargic chaos.

Because he knows what kind of day today is going to be, and he is _ not _looking forward to it.

~=~

It all started when Graham became a knight.

It’s not his fault - Kyle knows this. Graham rarely has any kind of conscious power over _ those _ days. He doesn’t _ mean _ for chaos and screaming and beasts with too many teeth to follow him around like ducks following their mother.

But they do, and that’s the important thing.

Graham is sweet, and kind, and clever, and one of the best friends that anyone can ask for. He also attracts trouble and danger with the same intensity that the sun attracts the earth, and, like the earth, chaos orbits him with nagging persistence. Somehow, he always ends up in the strangest, most dangerous, most likely-to-result-in-death-and-lost-limbs-and-general-awfulness situations that you could possibly think of, and even more that you couldn’t. And while _ usually _he and those around him manage to escape with nothing more than a few bruises, sometimes Graham wasn’t so lucky.

(Kyle still occasionally has nightmares of the time with the hydra, and he hasn’t been able to look at pigeons the same way since. Although it was admittedly a clever idea at the time, he still maintains that certain things aren’t intended by the stars to be used as weapons. But that’s because he’s a sane and reasonable human being, whereas Graham definitely _ isn’t. _)

And there’s always the fear that this time, Graham won’t make it. That this time, he’ll slip up, or his ingenuity will fail him, or he’ll entrench himself too deeply in a mess he can’t get out of. You can play with fire only so many times before you get burned.

(For the most part, however, Kyle is just irritated.) 

~=~

There’s a small cafe, hidden on a street corner, that smells of cinnamon (which Kyle dislikes but Larry enjoys) and mint (which Kyle likes and Larry isn’t particularly fond of). They have breakfast there almost every morning before going on duty, since most aren’t aware of its existence and Kyle feels nervous around large groups of people. They sit outside on the balcony because Larry doesn’t like closed spaces. All in all, it works out.

Or it_ would _ work out, if today weren’t one of _ those _ days.

Kyle stirs his tea moodily, feeling depressed. The screams from his dream and the lingering grey despair have a lasting effect which is not conducive to joy, contentment, or any kind of positive emotional state. Though the sun is shining bright upon the colorful town of Daventry and though peace and happiness currently prevails, he knows this is only temporary, a bandaid slapped on a broken bone, a volcano covered in flowers that will soon erupt and spread pain and death and devastation- 

"You're pouting again," observes Larry, sipping at his cup of coffee through a straw.

"I do not _ pout." _

"Sulking, then. Glowering. Comporting yourself in a generally depressed manner." Larry takes another sip of coffee. "What's eating at you, Kyle?"

Kyle merely gives a long-suffering sigh, the kind of sigh that usually results from longer exposures to Graham. The one that combines 'he's my friend but there's only so much I can take,' 'stars above what have I done to deserve this,' and 'if you know mercy, put me out of my misery.'

Larry freezes. "Oh, _ stars. _ It's not going to be one of _ those _days, is it?"

Kyle nods dolefully and stirs another cube of sugar into his tea. He thinks he's put about seven so far, and by now the tea should be undrinkable. Also, cold.

Sighing, he drops another cube into the cup.

"You can't be _ serious_," Larry says, disbelieving. "We just had an incident _ last week. _The one with the lamias, remember?"

How could he forget. No man on Earth could forget such a scene. It will be etched in his mind forevermore. If ever someone dissects his brain, they would find a perfect image of that day scorched into the folds of his very brain matter.

"And the week before that, there was the episode with the centaurs. And before _ that, _there were the sirens-"

"We don't talk about the sirens." 

"-sorry, the singing creatures that won't be named. And in between those there were scuffles with goblins, gnomes, fairies, elves-"

"He's been very popular with the elves lately."

"It's ridiculous, is what it is." Larry huffs. "Don't get me wrong, Graham is a wonderful person and a joy to be with, but he...he…"

Kyle smiles bitterly. "He's a walking magnet for trouble?"

"...Exactly."

"I know. And today is going to be another terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day."

"Come now," says Larry, reaching across the table and placing a hand on his arm, "there's no need for such pessimism."

"There _ absolutely _ is."

"Come now," Larry repeats encouragingly, "I'm sure everything will be fine."

Despite himself, Kyle smiles a bit behind his helmet.

~=~

Everything is _ not _fine. 

It is not fine, because while on patrol with Larry, Graham, Terrence (a relatively new recruit who has no soul), and Phillip (whom nobody cares about), they are attacked. Because the stars are in a vindictive mood today, and said to themselves, ‘why not make the lives of these poor innocent souls as miserable as possible? That should be _ fun _ ! It’s not as if they’ve already been through some of the worst horrors known to man, and should probably be cut some _ bloody _ slack!’ 

(Alright, so Kyle may be slightly bitter, but in his defense, he's sick and tired of these things happening...unless they happen to Terrence, in which case the universe has his full approval. The more horrible things that happen to Terrence, the better. The bastard made Larry _ cry _once, and Kyle hasn’t forgiven him since.)

Today, however, is special, because, contrary to expectations, they aren’t attacked by the usual elves or goblins or centaurs. No, today, just to keep them on their toes, they are attacked by a _ sorceress. _

An _ angry _ sorceress. 

A very angry and trigger-happy sorceress, who apparently hates_ Graham _for some reason, even though Graham has never seen her before in his life, if his shocked and slightly offended expression is any indication.

It goes about as well as one would expect. That is to say, horribly. After a long and involved monologue about something or other (Kyle really can’t bring himself to care, he’s heard so many of these speeches in the past few months), the sorceress laughs maniacally before zapping Graham with a spell and vanishing in a cloud of bright pink sparkles.

Graham tumbles to the ground in much the same way that birds don’t. As if in a trance, Kyle watches numbly as Graham crumples like a marionette with its strings cut, lying on the ground motionless. The minutes crawl by without a sign of life from Graham, and Kyle's mind freezes in shock. It's finally happened, his worst fear, Graham has failed, faltered, _ died _-

Graham sits up.

He looks a little dazed, swaying in harmony with the grass, as if the breeze were pushing him from side to side. His gaze seems unfocused, his movements slightly uncoordinated. But he's alive, and conscious, and breathing. 

Kyle approaches Graham nervously, Larry dismounting from his shoulders and following at his side, the rest of their fellow knights remaining well away from their youngest. Kyle and Larry are the designated Graham-wranglers, and as far as the other knights are concerned, it's _ their _ responsibility to cope with Graham's peculiar brand of mayhem. An unfortunate attitude that irritates Kyle to no limit, but there's little he can do.

Graham grins up at them as they approach, a smile that's a little too wide and shows a few too many teeth, more of a baring of fangs than anything else. There's a spark of something unnaturally cold in his eyes, something that sends a shiver down Kyle's spine. 

No, he corrects himself, not something. The _ lack _of something, more like.

The memories are unpleasant and unwelcome. Larry gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, evidently noting his discomfort. With a 'stay here' gesture, he moves forward, crouching beside the still-grinning Graham.

"Graham?" Larry asks gently, movements slow and non-threatening, a standard procedure after the incident with the werewolves. "Are you alright?"

Graham takes a long time to process this question. "...I _ think _ so?"

There's something wrong in his tone and inflection. Something curiously flat and dead-sounding that chills Kyle to the bone. Kyle is glad that he's not any closer, even if a part of him chafes nervously at the fact that Larry is facing Graham more or less on his own.

"Are you in any pain?" Larry continues. 

Another long pause. "...No."

"Do you remember your name? The date? Who you are? Who _ we _are?"

"Ye-es," says Graham, brow furrowed in concentration. "Yes," he repeats with more confidence. “My name is Graham. It’s October twentieth. You’re Larry, and the one standing a bit away is Kyle, and the ones in the back are Terrence and Phillip. And we’re all knights of Daventry.”

Okay, that… that isn't so bad. At least they don't have another case of amnesia on their hands - that wasn’t an experience they would like to repeat. They can work with this. 

"Well, then we can head back now."

_ No. No, Terrence. Stay out of this, please. Now is not the time for this, please shut up- _

Terrence, of course, does the exact opposite of what Kyle was frantically hoping for, because the universe doesn't want Kyle to have nice things. Instead he swaggers forth obnoxiously, blissfully unconscious of the fact that getting too close to Graham may not be the smartest of ideas.

Kyle is going to strangle something.

Larry is quick to protest, ever the voice of reason. "We still don't know what the sorceress did to him. I don't think-"

"You're being _ ridiculous, _ " says Terrence, in his 'look at me I’m Terrence and I'm better than everyone else' voice. "Look at him, he's _ fine. _Don't be stupid, Larry."

Larry stiffens. People degrading his intelligence has always been a sore point with him, a fact that Terrence knows perfectly well.

Correction: Kyle is going to strangle Terrence_. _

(But despite his anger, he doesn’t fail to notice when something steely and exceedingly cold glints in Graham’s eyes)

"You can't just drag him back home,” insists Larry, still trying to reason with the unreasonable. “He’s unpredictable. Doing so would be unwise.”

“I think we should listen to Larry,” says Phillip in a small voice, the first thing he’s said since the sorceress cursed Graham. Everyone ignores him, of course, because life isn’t fair and that’s a lesson he has to learn.

Terrence scoffs. “He’s barely an adult. What’s the worst he can do?”

Graham looks like he wants to murder someone. Specifically, Terrence. Which, fair.

Without waiting for a response, Terrence continues, “If you’re all too frightened to face a _ teenager, _I’ll do it myself.”

Before anyone can stop him, Terrence marches forward, shoves Larry aside, and grabs Graham by the upper arm, hoisting him roughly to his feet.

Graham stabs Terrence in the elbow.

There’s a lot of blood and screaming, as well as a scuffle as Larry tries to subdue Graham. Kyle sighs and massages his temples, feeling very very tired.

_ Well, _ he thinks glumly, _ at least it’s not as bad as it could have been. _


End file.
